


First Encounter

by Trychtopus



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22290901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trychtopus/pseuds/Trychtopus
Summary: Tora brings Poppy to his apartment for the first time, but his intentions are far from being featured in Home and Garden Magazine.
Relationships: Tora/Poppy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 342





	First Encounter

She was a curious, messy thing, Tora reflected as he watched Poppy survey his apartment. Soft, to be sure, naive, everything he’d been raised to avoid. He leaned casually against the wall just inside the door and watched her, wondering as he often did why he even bothered. He’d been stuck in a rut lately, struggling to find the motivation to even get the fuck out of bed in the morning, and she was a suitable distraction from that, he supposed. At least until she turned into a liability. 

Poppy took a few steps inside and paused, turning cautiously, and he raised an eyebrow at her back. 

“What, ya think a fuckin’ dragon is gonna come out from behind the couch or somethin’?”

Just as he’d expected, she startled violently and turned to him with a light blush on her nose. Predictable. He kept his expression deliberately neutral, knowing it would piss her off.

She glared at him. She was used to his teasing now, his sense of humor, if it could even be called that. He fought a grin. So simple, so effortless to get her riled up, to tempt her into that fiery temper that no one had had the balls to show him in years. She wasn’t afraid of him, not really, even though she should have been. He found it exhilarating. 

“Is...this it?”

He feigned offense. “You were expecting the Hilton?”

Poppy jumped at his words and he ticked off his mental checklist as he always did after she’d blurted out something unintentionally insulting to him. Wide eyes, mouth covered, scarlet cheeks. He wondered, for just a moment, if she’d ever actually torn into someone with intent. He bet she’d be beautiful when she did. 

“I--I didn’t mean--it’s just that--” She sputtered, desperately trying to backtrack, to spare his feelings. She was always so considerate of his fuckin' feelings. He snorted. “I just meant...where do you  _ sleep _ ?”

He tossed a nod toward the couch. “Sleep there,” tilted his head toward the minute kitchenette, “food there,” then jutted his chin toward a small closet in the corner, “piss there. Still excited I brought you over?”

Committed to her perpetual insistence upon finding the positive in a situation, she sat delicately upon the couch and gave it an experimental bounce. It certainly wasn’t luxurious living by any stretch of the imagination, but it sort of suited him, and the thought made her giggle. “It’s a little lonely,” she grinned at him then, always smiling, clueless to the effect it really had on him, “but I guess it’s home, right?”

He shook his head at her. How she’d managed to survive this long in a city that ate the weak for breakfast, he would never know. Shifting away from the wall, he noticed her eyes light on something near the space he’d just left and glanced over just in time to realize what she was about to ask him. He groaned internally.

“I forgot you said you played guitar.”

“I never said that.”

“You don’t honestly think I don’t know it was you that saved me from falling out of that tree? You’re not  _ that  _ slick.” She turned and made a show of getting comfortable on the couch, stretching her legs out across the black fabric. “Will you play for me?”

“No.”

Her immediate crestfallen look  _ almost  _ made him laugh. To say she wore her heart on her sleeve would be an extreme understatement. Truth be told, he’d had other plans on his mind entirely when he’d brought her over, and he wasn’t about to have her ruin them by indulging her in some Hallmark movie guitar-playing bullshit. As far as he was concerned, the outfit she’d picked that day was invitation enough for him to push his luck, and he was going to take his time seeing just how far she’d let him go.

They’d sung this song and danced this dance before, with him invading her space on purpose and her playing coy. It had started out as genuine, his intentions merely to disorient her, until he’d caught the scent of her perfume in the air and the quiet, cautious lust in her eyes when she looked at him. It wasn’t like the usual stares, the constant hungry leers from painted girls in their revealing clothing and overt desire who usually approached him. 

Her need for him was a well-kept secret, a flash of curiosity when she thought he wasn’t looking, or a glossy bottom lip trapped between her teeth when she turned away. He’d known from the moment she’d tucked his hair behind his ear that she had no qualms about playing with fire, and he fully intended to show her just how good it could feel to get burned. 

Poppy looked up from where she’d lounged, uncomfortable but stubborn, as Tora towered over her with his usual frown. The man was built like a blessing, and she’d be lying to herself if she tried to say she didn’t want to know what he was hiding underneath his clothing. The thought of it brought blood rushing to her face; she’d never felt this way with Julri, not by a longshot, but despite her attempts to squash the feeling that stirred deep in her belly when she looked at the man, Poppy couldn’t help but hope that Tora noticed her, too.

Judging by the smouldering gaze that was traveling across her body, she was betting that she’d picked just the right outfit to make that happen this time...

It had been a daring thing for work, much to Erdene’s delight, with a set of black thigh-highs and a plunging collared shirt. She hadn’t missed the look on Tora’s face the day she’d accidentally flashed him on the train, and she hadn’t missed it this time, either. The man had been shell-shocked, just long enough for the burning cigarette to tumble from his lips, and the surging sense of claiming a rare victory over the man was almost as intoxicating as his cologne was now. 

Tora curved a large hand around her ankles, then, and tossed them aside, smirking at the squeak that squeezed itself up and out of her throat at the sudden movement. He’d have to move quickly now, to seduce her before she got her typical cold feet, and so he simply scooped her up into his arms, bringing her to rest on his hips. The muscles in her thighs clenched around his waist instinctively, trembling and tight, and as he tilted his head upward to gauge her expression, he knew he nearly had her. 

Using his height and his strength were two things that Tora had quickly grown accustomed to across his life, whether it be to charm or to intimidate. Poppy was no exception, looking down at him with exhilaration in her eyes. He tossed her lightly, just enough to shift her weight and secure her, then spoke to her in a near-whisper: “You wear this for any old guy who invites ya over?”

Her heartbeat quickened at the rasp in his voice and she shook her head, feigning innocence. “N-No, it’s just my work ensemble. Do you...like it?”

He growled, dipping his head to catch the scent of her along her collarbone. “Shit,” he whispered, feather-light against her skin, “you drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

Her fingers were in his hair, then, teasing the ponytail out and raking his scalp with her fingernails. It was only after she’d grabbed a fistful that he could hold back no longer and sucked hungrily at her neck, tonguing at her racing pulse like a man starved. The gasp that escaped her shot straight to his loins and he pushed forth, dragging his teeth down the side of her neck and back up, teasing her, taunting her into asking for it. 

Their mouths met moments later, frenzied, crushed together and frantic for the taste of each other. They hadn’t kissed much, certainly not to this extent, and the taste of her made his knees weak; she was sweet, like the summer sunshine on high tide, and he drank hungrily of her while he knelt, pinning her instead to the couch where he could ravage her properly.

Poppy gasped as Tora took hold of the lapels of her shirt collar and pulled, almost effortlessly, snapping the buttons and revealing her ample chest to him. Before she could scold him for his boldness, he descended upon her breasts as a man possessed, nibbling at the swell of her flesh just over the lace of her bra, sneaking his other hand underneath the garment to thumb at her nipple while he worked. He’d never given her the chance to say no, not really, but denying him was the furthest thing from her mind as he tugged the burgundy fabric down to suckle the newly revealed pink flesh. She squirmed, the sensation new to her, and braced herself against his broad shoulders as he savored her.

Tora could feel his body trembling, wound tight and nearly painful with desire and tension and need. Had he planned this more carefully, he might have actually managed to take his time with her, to do it properly and with patience and to take care of her, but as she mewled underneath him and stared at him with hooded, glassy eyes, he couldn’t find any of his usual control. With unsteady fingers, he found the side zipper on her pencil skirt, pausing only long enough for her to cant her hips so that he could remove the barrier. 

It wasn't until he pressed his palms against her knees, spreading her with a deceptively gentle touch, that she spoke to him with a quiver in her voice. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He chuckled and glanced up from between her thighs, his stare predatory, and trailed a flame-hot row of kisses up her belly, between her breasts, along her throat, until he could just brush his lips against hers while he teased her through her panties with his knuckles. “I’m gonna taste ya now, sweetheart,” her breath left her in a hiss as he circled her bud with agonizing slowness, “has anyone ever done that for ya?”

He knew the answer, and yet it still brought a painful swell to his cock when she shook her head, breathless from the way he teased her. It was too easy to give into temptation then, pulling her bottom lip from between her teeth and into his own, drowning in the way she met his tongue in her mouth while he reached down and finally slipped his manhood from its denim confinement. 

Unable to resist further, he returned to his place between her legs, using his free hand to tug her panties down and over her hips, along her thighs, sliding them carelessly until they fell to rest around her ankles. The black, clingy fabric of her tights contrasted deliciously with the pale skin they concealed and he dove in, dragging the tip of his tongue from her entrance all the way to her epicenter.

Poppy cried out, her body shivering at the way his tongue slipped along her folds, earning a deviant smirk from him as he drank from her body. He thrived on the sounds she made for him as he sucked at her, hiking her thighs up onto his shoulders and sliding her hips toward him for better access. Between his own legs, he pumped himself lazily, the head of his member slick with precum and easing his attempts at some relief. She was mad with the rush of it all, completely lost in the pleasure coursing through her body, unable to keep hold of her usual restraint as she fisted his hair and pressed him into her.

Tora was more than happy to oblige. 

It wasn’t long after, with his tongue pressed against her and her juices running languidly down his chin, that she found her climax in a dizzying rush. To have her call out his name into the darkness, to have her thighs clamped around his head, shaking and weak, was as a drug, heady and powerful. He allowed her precious few moments to embrace the high before he dragged her body to his own, neither willing nor able to wait for her embrace any longer.

They tumbled backward, laughing and intoxicated with desire, Poppy clawing at his shirt to bring it up and over his head as he slid his jeans from his hips. She was insistent, refusing to part from his lips for any longer than it took to tear his clothes from his body, her blush indiscernible from the rose flush that painted the rest of her body. Her attempts to pin him were laughable at best, but he allowed it nevertheless, taking advantage of the opportunity to memorize her in this state: just wild, untamed beauty, only for him. Only for his eyes.

Poppy gazed down upon his body, her eyes clouded with lust and curiosity. Objectively, Tora knew that women found him attractive; even an idiot would have noticed that. He'd paid it little notice unless the situation called for what he knew would gain him the upper hand. As he fished a condom out of his wallet and worked to sheathe himself, however, he couldn't help but notice that the way Poppy was looking at him, not as a conquest but as a piece of art, made his chest tighten in a way he'd never felt before.

Distantly, as he cradled her body down onto his own and rolled them gently, he resolved to earn that look as many times as he could get her to recreate it.

There was just a touch of apprehension in her eyes as he pinned her, careful not to crush her but secretly enjoying the way his body dwarfed her own, and so he paused for a moment, asking her with his eyes, if she was really sure about this.

Her bravery impressed him as it always did, her own silly brand of reckless candor that propelled her forward into danger and excitement. This was no different as she hooked a leg around his and drew his hips toward her, faking a sort of confidence that left her trembling and determined. 

Her bravado drew a quiet, private laugh from him and he shook his head at her. "You just can't stay away from trouble, can ya?"

Poppy smiled, her lips bashful and swollen from their sparring. "Who says you're trouble?"

He snorted, dismissing her flirting with a shake of his head. As he slipped himself inside of her, he smirked at the sharp breath she sucked in, wondering if she even noticed the way she squeezed around him while he penetrated her. "I'm the worst kinda trouble there is, sweetheart."

They moved in tandem, limbs tangled and hair wild, desperate with need to find closure in one another. She bounced beneath him under the force of his thrusts, her head tossed back in ecstasy, her bra around her ribs and shirt twisted, her only concern drawing him deeper inside of her silky abyss. Her fingernails were at his back, clawing their encouragement into his skin as he pounded her, the sounds of skin smacking skin adding a filthy backdrop to the soundtrack of their gasps and moans. 

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, lifting her body to his own and swinging his legs around so that he could lie back and take in the full sight of her. She rode him easily, reaching up to clutch at her bouncing breasts, and when she met his gaze with a yearning, silent plea, he felt something within him break. 

His climax coursed through his body like a snake striking, pushing him to sit up and clutch her sweaty body to his own while he pulsed inside of her. He wasn't quite sure if it was his voice or hers that cried out; perhaps it was both, but the wave of delirious pleasure that overtook him felt as though it lasted a lifetime until at last they collapsed back into the floor in a heap, uninterested in anything but the way their fluttering heartbeats called to each other from flesh prisons like caged birds. 

Tora wasn't quite sure how long they remained like that. It was only when she'd finally shifted, the pain of having her hips spread awkwardly over his own finally coming to a head, that he slid himself from her and chucked the remains of their tryst toward the trashcan in the kitchen. They didn't need words between them now, only the mutual understanding of a need for closeness and rest, and so he plucked a blanket from behind the couch and covered them both.

It was an awkward fit to have someone there with him. Despite the way her body seemed to fit his like a puzzle piece, he found his backside cold from the blanket's woefully lacking spread and his feet hung awkwardly off the edge. He noticed, however, that as she threaded her tiny fingers into his own and pulled their entwined hands against her chest, the usual irritation he would have felt was decidedly absent.

The only thing, he mused, that he truly cared about in that moment was the way she sighed herself into sleep, knowing that she'd snuggled her way right into Trouble's arms. He rolled his eyes at her, then pressed his smirk into the silk of her hair. 

"Fuckin' figures."


End file.
